


What I Ain't

by formalizing



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Sam, Come Eating, Come Marking, Come Swallowing, I'm Sorry, M/M, Oral Sex, Sibling Incest, Top Dean, one of the characters may be a little fixated on come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-07 04:32:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5443445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/formalizing/pseuds/formalizing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a little fixated. Sam doesn't mind.</p><p>(A series of drabbles based on prompts)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Quitter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rei_c](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rei_c/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "spitters are quitters".

Sam’s fingers are clawed along his scalp, tugging insistently at whatever hair he can grab as he warns, “Dean… Dean, I’m gonna—”

But Dean just hums out an elongated ‘mmhmm’ as he slides all the way down, until his lips are split wide and tight around the base. He can feel Sam tensing all over, biting out a “Fuck, _Dean_ ,” as Dean pulls slowly back until just the tip is left on his tongue, leaving behind a slick mess that he covers with the tight grip of his hand.

Dean watches Sam come, watches his head tip back and his jaw work, mouth dropping open to breathe out, “Oh god,” as he meets Dean’s eyes, watches as he sucks him through it, running his hand along the length not between his lips. Dean lets it pool on his tongue until he feels Sam go boneless under him.

Sam groans, oversensitive as Dean slides his mouth back down his cock, just far enough that Sam’ll feel it when he swallows once, twice, working his tongue around to catch anything left behind as he pulls back up and off with a deliberate, wet popping sound.

His lips are slick when he presses them to Sam’s, who opens to him without resistance, tastes himself on Dean’s tongue with an appreciative groan.

“Spitters are quitters, Sammy,” he says with a smirk once pulls back just far enough to lick his own lips, to be sure he got it all. “And I may be a lot of things, but I ain’t a quitter.”


	2. Predictable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A drabble for the prompt 'confetti'.

Sam can feel when Dean’s about to come. He can tell by the way he groans low with his sweat-slick forehead pressed against Sam’s, fingers squeezing tight where he’s holding the backs of Sam’s knees up near his shoulders, bent nearly in half. And where he’d normally come inside of him, bring Sam off with him to feel him squeezing him through the aftershocks, this time he pulls out entirely.

“What’re you—” is as far as Sam gets when he tries to ask what Dean’s doing, because then Dean is flipping him with a strength Sam sometimes forgets he has, getting Sam up on his knees with his back bent low and his face pressed against the sheets, ass in the air.

He gets it when he feels the warmth of come on his back and at his tailbone, dotting his skin like confetti. Some of it runs down the crack of his ass, like it’s determined to get to his hole after all, and Dean catches it with his fingers, drives two back inside, easy now that Sam’s already been opened up on his cock.

Dean presses Sam’s legs further apart with his other hand, gets between them and grabs Sam’s dick where it’s still hard and waiting.

“Your turn.”

Dean pumps his cock in time with the fingers he’s thrusting inside of him, stopping once or twice to rub his thumb along the swollen rim of Sam’s hole. But what really sets him off, makes Sam come with a surprised gasp and a whine that gets caught in his throat, is the feeling of Dean’s tongue trailing along his back, into the dimples bracketing his spine, chasing down and lapping up every bit of come he’d left there.

He’s still hazy-eyed and basking in the afterglow when Dean runs sticky fingers over his lower lip, says, “Open up” in that low, fucked-out drawl he gets after sex.

And Sam does, parts his lips and sucks, slips his tongue between the two to get it all when Dean runs a hand up his back to stroke through his hair and, says “Atta boy.”


	3. A Picky Eater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "cupcake".

Dean looks from the cupcake in his hand to the smile on Sam’s face with undisguised suspicion.

“What’s this?”

“A cupcake,” Sam says, his voice and the one raised eyebrow making it clear that he’s stating the obvious.

“Yeah, I got that. But it’s not my birthday, it’s not a major holiday, and far as I know, you’re not sorry for anything. So, again—what’s this?”

This time Sam rolls his eyes.

“Maybe if you tried it, you’d figure it out.”

And much as growing up with a little brother has taught Dean to be wary of anything offered as a gift, it is still a cupcake, and he is kind of hungry.

He swipes his finger through the frosting first—because anyone who doesn’t think it’s the best part is hands-down wrong—closing his lips around a large dollop of it. He sucks it off his finger with a happy groan, pressing it against the roof of his mouth with his tongue. Then he stops, does it again, and his eyebrows draw together as he swallows because that seriously tastes like—

“Did you… did you come in the frosting?”

Sam is grinning openly now, the same shit-eating grin he wears when he manages to pull off something like gluing Dean’s hand to a beer bottle.

“You’ve been kind of fixated lately, thought you’d appreciate a new recipe.”

Dean hums thoughtfully as he takes another swipe of it, this time making a show of licking it off his finger with one broad stripe of his tongue. Sam’s eyes track every move.

“I like the original just fine, but I appreciate the effort,” he says with a smirk. “Got any left over?”

“Some, yeah,” Sam says, just a little breathless as he licks his lower lip, right where Dean knows there’s a little smear of frosting on his own. “Why?”

“‘Cause you’re gonna suck it off my dick,” he answers, matter-of-fact, and Sam swallows hard. Dean takes a step closer, curls his hand around the line of Sam’s half-hard cock through his jeans. “After I slick you up and ride you right to the edge, I’m gonna put you on your knees, hard and begging for it, and I’m gonna make you lick the rest of that frosting off my cock. And if you open wide and do a _real_ good job, maybe I’ll let you come when I do.”

He can feel Sam eagerly hardening the rest of the way with interest, and he grins as he leans in and kisses him, feels Sam’s tongue as it catches the smear of frosting from his lip.

And it’s not even his birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW. I'M SORRY.


	4. Inflexible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> blondess asked for '...a chapter all about them mixing their cum together"

Dean is so very close to coming right down Sam’s throat like he’s been thinking about _all day_ when Sam drags the wet heat of his mouth up and off Dean’s cock, presses an apologetic kiss to the tip and then pulls away altogether. His face is lit up with one of those wicked smiles, his lips at their most beautiful when they’re sore and red from being stretched wide around Dean’s cock. 

Dean’s tempted to get a hand in his hair, settle him back in place to finish what he started, but then Sam leans back with his ass resting on his heels, naked and hard where he’s kneeling between Dean’s legs. He curls one hand around his dick with a sigh as the other lands flat on the floor behind him to support his weight. He stretches out, long and languid, offers himself up like a blank canvas.

“Want you to come on me,” he says as he spreads his thighs further apart in invitation. “Come on me and then lick it off.”

“Fuck,” Dean growls, gets his own hand on his cock where it sits between the wide open fly of his jeans, still wet from Sam’s mouth.

Sam shudders, stomach clenching and muscles in his legs flexing as he cants his hips up to better fuck his own fist. Dean slides down off the edge of the bed to his knees between Sam’s thighs, runs his free hand over his straining muscles, fingers spread wide to reach more tanned skin. Up over his hip where Dean’s fingers have left so many marks in the past, across the taut skin of his midsection, up his well-muscled chest. He takes a moment to trace the mouth that had just been on his cock, parted now around the small, needy sounds Sam’s making.

Sam gasps as Dean sinks his fingers into Sam’s hair, pulls and makes him arch up to meet him in a kiss. Dean bites those sweet, swollen lips, fucks his tongue into Sam’s pliant mouth. 

“Y’want me to make you all messy, Sammy?” he says, voice sex-slow and heavy as he slides the head of his cock, already slick with precome over his brother’s skin.

“Yeah,” he breathes, looking up at Dean from under his lashes. “Fuck, yeah. Please, Dean.”

Dean’s already on the edge, and the wanton look in Sam’s eyes as he says _please_ so pretty is just enough to push him over. He comes with a low groan, spilling thick and hot over Sam’s stomach as Sam watches him with greedy eyes.

Sam easily gives up his grip on his own cock once Dean’s recovered enough to knock his hand away and replace it with his own, Sam settling both of his on the floor. He's happy to take what Dean gives him, arching up into his touch with sweet, desperate sounds like he's starved for it, and it doesn’t take much before Dean has him coming all over himself, right over top of where Dean’s own come paints his belly.

Sam’s arms are shaking with the effort of holding up his suddenly boneless body, so Dean helps him get his legs out from under him, stretched out straight and spread open around where Dean is still kneeling between them.

Sam’s hazy, contented eyes follow every move of Dean’s fingers as they trail through the slick of come on his skin, swirling through it, mixing it together in the hollow of his stomach. Dean sucks one finger between his lips and savors the taste of both of them combined, watches as Sam’ hips jerk upwards just a little in response. If he hadn’t just come, Dean bets Sam’d be halfway hard just that fast, and Dean knows the feeling.

But the night is young, he thinks as he smirks, bends to lick the mess off Sam’ stomach as promised.


End file.
